


The Banner of the First Regiment

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A civilization of war nerds, that's what turians were called.  On a mission to help morale, Garrus Vakarian and Adrien Victus do everything they can to live up to that stereotype.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Banner of the First Regiment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theherocomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/gifts).



The battery doors swished open and Garrus dropped his hands from Shepard’s waist like he had been bitten by a varren.  He cursed to himself as he snapped his head around, wanting to know who just barged in the battery like they owned the place.  Only _Shepard_ did that. 

“Primarch Victus,” Garrus said, straightening up and standing in parade rest without even thinking.  “Sir.”

The doors closed as Victus nodded towards Shepard.  He then turned his focus on Garrus.  “Vakarian, what’s this I hear about you leading a team to recover the Banner of the First Regiment?” Victus asked.  Garrus tried not to flinch at the annoyance in Victus’ sub-vocals. 

“An officer on the Citadel suggested recovering it for morale,” Shepard said.  “I figured since we were in the area...”

“When do we leave?” Victus asked.

Garrus used as much effort as he could not to show the surprise on his face.  His mandibles didn’t move a damn _inch._   But he couldn’t keep the confusion out of his sub-vocals as he asked, “We, sir?”

“I can trace my bloodline back two thousand years, Vakarian.  I had family who served in the First Regiment during the Krogan Rebellions,” Victus said.  “I’m going with you.” 

Garrus looked at Shepard.  “I believe any personnel changes would be Shepard’s decision.” 

He held his breath waiting for Shepard’s response.  Garrus respected Victus a great deal.  But the thought of leading an op with the Primarch of Palaven on his team?  Victus had always listened to Garrus’ advice on Menae, never questioned his authority once.  But Victus was a general then, not the Primarch. 

Shepard clearly tried to hold back a smile.  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “Actually, Garrus, since you’re leading the ground team, who you bring is completely up to you.” 

“I see,” Garrus said.  He wondered just how far he’d get demoted in the Hierarchy if he told Victus ‘no.’  He had to say something.  “Sir, you’re the Primarch of Palaven.  Are you sure you should risk yourself going on a simple search and recovery mission?”

“And this woman,” Victus said, indicating Shepard, “is going to be responsible for brokering peace between the krogan and turians.  Do you ever tell her not to risk herself?”

 _Game and match,_ Garrus thought to himself as Shepard put her hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing.  She didn’t laugh nearly enough these days.  “Well it was going to be a two man squad anyway, just me and Vega.  Vega’s a soldier,” Garrus said.  He held his hand out to indicate Victus.  “You’re a soldier.” 

“The Banner of the First Regiment,” Victus said, his sub-vocals almost gleeful.  “I grew up hearing stories about them.”

“So did I,” Garrus said, thinking back to his childhood, when his mother would gather him and Solana up and tell them bedtime stories.  He appreciated those memories even more now, with his mother gone and his sister unaccounted for.  “The Battle of Syglar is my favorite.”

“When General Clineas led the troops over the ice bridge of the Angeris?” Victus asked.  “That is a good one.  But what about the Attack on Altakiril?  When the Warlord, what was her name again-”

“Warlord Drau Giamn,” Garrus said, thinking about the tale.  His mandibles flicked once in excitement.  “They were outmanned five to one and still pulled it off.” 

Victus clasped his hand on Garrus’ shoulder.  “And now we’re going to see the banner in person.  When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, oh eight hundred hours,” Garrus said, feeling an almost eagerness now that he accepted Victus would be going with him.  Vega just wouldn’t _understand_ the way another turian would.  “Meet in the cargo bay.” 

With a brisk nod, Victus turned and left the battery. 

“So, you and the Primarch of Palaven.  On a mission.  To rescue a banner,” Shepard said with a smirk. 

“It’s not just any banner, Shepard,” Garrus said, holding out his hand.  She took it and walked over to him.  “It’s the Banner of the First Regiment.  The First _Regiment_.  They were the first military unit formed in our recorded history, fifteen thousand years ago.”  He paused and nuzzled her cheek.  “Don’t your people have any artifacts like that?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment.  “The Declaration of Independence or the Treaty ending the Second American Civil War, perhaps.”  Poking him in the side, just above his waist guard, she added with a smirk, “But I wouldn’t go on a mission with President Huerta or Udina to recover them.” 

Garrus wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  “It’s okay,” he said with mock symphony.  “Not your fault the leader of my people is so much more capable than the leader of your people.”

Shepard grabbed his collar and opened her mouth to say something but then promptly closed it again.  “I can’t do it.  I was going to say I’d rather go on a mission with Udina than Sparatus, but that’s a lie.  A complete and utter lie.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck.  “You win.”

“Oh do I?” Garrus asked, letting a bit of desire slip into his sub-vocals.  “What’s my prize?”

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

~~~~~

“What’ve we got for me, Cortez?” Garrus asked as he and Victus stepped into the shuttle. 

“Turians are holding fairly well against the Reapers here,” Cortez said. 

“Primarch Papus is a good woman,” Victus said.  “She won’t let the Reaper bastards win.” 

“Well, they sent a relatively small force.  Nothing compared to the Trebia system,” Cortez said.  “I’ve got the coordinates, so I should be able to just drop you off, you pick the banner up and we’re back by lunch time.  Fitch is making grilled cheese today.”

Garrus sat down as the shuttle took off.  Next to him, the Primarch wore the standard military armor and carried an assault rifle, a shotgun and a pistol.  Garrus was content with his Vindicator and Mantis.  Together, they should be able to handle anything thrown at them. 

_Great, famous last words._

“No Reapers in orbit,” Victus said.  “They all must be planet-side.”

“Any by the Fortress?” Garrus asked. 

“No, looks clear,” Cortez said.  “We’re entering the atmosphere and I’ll have you there in just a couple of minutes.”

“Have you ever heard about the First Regiment, Lieutenant?” Victus asked. 

Garrus chuckled.  Hopefully Cortez didn’t mind having his ear canals filled in.  Garrus and Victus ate dinner together last night, going over the op and Victus couldn’t stop talking about the banner.  And now Victus would another victim. 

“Bits and pieces, actually,” Cortez said.  “I dated a turian before I met Robert.  He was the historian for the Fifteen Regiment.”

“Do you have a favorite battle?” Victus asked Cortez hopefully.

Cortez looked back at Garrus for a moment, clearly asking if he needed to answer the question.  Garrus simply shrugged.  No harm in indulging the Primarch a bit.

“There was some sort of huge fight over…” Cortez took a breath. “Gellix!  That’s the name.  Gellix, right?”

Victus put his hand on Cortez’s shoulder.  “Good man.”

They were almost at the fortress.  Garrus stood up and unlocked his Mantis from his back while Victus stood and brought out his shotgun.  The shuttle door opened and Garrus took his first look at the Fortress of Rutilas.  His breath hitched at the sight.  The fortress had been built almost three thousand years ago, right when turians first colonized this world.  The design was simple, reminded Garrus of a large prefab, honestly.  Turians never wasted time and money on fancy architecture when they could spend money on weapons and armor. 

“I’ve never seen this in person, have you?” Victus asked, the tone of his sub-vocals almost reverent. 

“Never,” Garrus said, his voice hushed.  “I’ve been on Digeris before, but just the capital.  Never out here.”  He shook his head.  Time to work.  “Alright, we know where the banner is, so let’s get it and get out of here.”

“Agreed,” Victus said.

They jumped out of the shuttle at the same time and Garrus looked at the fortress in front of him.  The drawbridge was down, allowing them to cross the moat surrounding the fortress with ease.  Since turians hardly ever swam, moats were almost always used in defense for ancient fortresses.  As they walked over the bridge, Garrus turned slightly, wondering if he could sneak a picture of the fortress on his omni-tool.  He brought his tool up, pretending to look at some schematics, but starting the camera feature instead.   

He pressed a button and winced.  The auto flash hadn’t been turned off.

“Good idea, Vakarian,” Victus said, bringing up his omni-tool as well.  Garrus laughed and took a couple more pics.  Victus looked over.  “Do you think you can take one of me at the gate?  Tarquin will never believe I’ve been here unless he sees proof.”  

“Only if you take one of me,” Garrus replied.  He’d love to have a pic to show Shepard. 

“Done.”  Victus walked to the open gate.  He stood tall and proud, hands behind his back. 

Garrus took several pics of the Primarch before shutting down his omni-tool.  “My turn,” he said.  They switched places quickly.  Garrus stood at the gate, holding the Mantis in his hands in front of him.  He couldn’t quite believe he was standing in the very spot where Warlord Graken Dhal was defeated.  The First Regiment had almost been decimated from the attack on Digeris, but they held and eventually won.  But they had lost so many soldiers that the decision was made to reconstitute the regiment rather than replace it.  Their banner stood proudly here at this fortress since that day.

“According to records, the banner is in the main hall,” Garrus said as they entered the courtyard.  Gravel crunched under his feet.  They both looked around, not as tourists, but as soldiers, searching for any place the enemy might have a chance to hide.

“Looks clear,” Victus said. 

“Agreed,” Garrus said, walking to the large double doors leading into the actual fortress.

_Sir, I’m picking up three harvesters heading our way._

“Of course you are,” Garrus said, checking the thermal clips on his Mantis.  “We got time to get back to the shuttle?”

_Negative, sir, they’re on top of me.  Got to bug out._

“Got it,” Garrus said, regretting his decision to bring a two man squad.  “Stay safe, Cortez.”

_You, too, sirs._

Garrus scanned the courtyard and found a sniper perch.  Next to him Victus stood ram rod straight, his shotgun in his hands.  “I’m going up top,” he told the Primarch.  “I’ll pick off as many as I can before they get to you.”

Victus nodded as he activated Incendiary Ammo.  He looked up, his eyes bright.  “You realize, Vakarian, we’re about to have a fire fight in the Fortress of Rutilas?”

“If we live through this, this will definitely rank as one of my top six days of my life,” Garrus said. 

“Agreed,” Victus said, moving to cover.  “So let’s damn well make sure we do live through this.” 

Garrus jogged over the sniper perch and climbed up to the top.  From there he could see most of the field before the fortress.  “Victus, you see any way to raise that drawbridge?” 

_They disabled it when this place became a tourist attraction.  Read about it last night._

“Understood.”  The Reapers were almost in range.  He could see them in his scope.  Garrus settled his sights at the end of the bridge and tried not to think about Omega.  Bridges, always saving his ass.  Almost embarrassing.  Almost.  “I’m seeing three Marauders, five Cannibals and a lot of husks.” 

_Never did understand why there are so many more Husks than the other types.  We outnumber the humans._

Garrus lined up his shot and took out a Husk.  He reloaded immediately and took another shot.  Best to thin out the numbers for now.  “Less headaches if you don’t try to figure out their logic.”  The Reapers had made it to the bridge, letting Garrus pick off some Husks easily.  “They’re crossing the bridge, Victus.  Once they’re across, I’ll join you.”

_Understood._

Garrus took out three more before the Reapers entered the courtyard.  Within seconds, he slapped his Mantis on his back and switched to his Vindicator.  “Heading to ground.”  He ran to the ladder and skimmed down as quickly as he could.  Just as he reached the bottom, he heard the sound of Victus’ shotgun. 

Ahead of him, Victus crouched in cover, reloading.  Garrus threw a Proximity Mine at the entrance of the courtyard.  It went off at once, scattering the Husks and causing a Cannibal to stumble and fall to the ground.  Garrus quickly finished the Cannibal off, then ducked into cover.

Across the way, Victus elbowed a Husk in the face before shooting it in the gut.  Garrus ran over towards Victus, asking the Spirits not to let the Primarch die.  Garrus considered himself far too close to the Primarchy as it was and who knew how many good turians had died since they left the Trebia system.  Adrien Victus could not die.  Not today. 

Throwing out his arm, Garrus stripped the shields of a nearby Marauder.  Victus shot the Marauder in the head and Garrus finished it off, shooting it in the neck. 

“You ever wonder who these poor bastards might be?” Garrus asked as he targeted another Marauder.  Standard procedure.  Marauders first.

“No,” Victus said at once.

“Me neither,” Garrus said, dropping to cover to reload.  Just as he popped back up again, two more Harvesters showed up.  “Aw, hell.”

“We can’t take that many. Vakarian.”

“Let’s get inside and regroup,” Garrus said, taking a deep breath.  “You first, I’ll cover you.”

“Agreed,” Victus said, checking his shotgun.  “Ready.”

“Go!” Garrus shouted as he stood up.  Victus started sprinting.  A couple of Husks spotted him and changed directions, but Garrus threw a mine at them, ending their threat.  He kept up the pressure, giving Victus as much cover as possible.

_I’m at the door._

“Got it,” Garrus said.  “Heading towards you.”  He stood up and sprinted, his lungs burning as he ran.

_Frag out._

Garrus heard the explosion behind him but didn’t stop.  He kept running until he was inside of the fort.  The second he passed the doors, Victus closed the manual door behind him.  The locks were mechanical, not electronic and they locked every one.  “We should be safe for now.”

“Vakarian, look,” Victus said, his voice ragged from the fight. 

Hearing the awed tones in his sub-vocals, Garrus turned.  There it stood.  There stood the Banner of the First Regiment.  “It’s beautiful,” Garrus said softly.  A dark blue background with simple white lettering, spelling out ‘First Regiment, Palaven.’  Garrus had thought it would be more ornate, perhaps with a seal or symbol of some sort.  But the simplicity of the banner took his breath away.  That banner had been in existence for thousands of years.  And if Garrus had anything to say about it, would be in existence for thousands more. 

Garrus looked around the main hall, simple in design and function, and looked for any sort of advantage they could use from the place.  He saw nothing.  But he should have expected that.  Parents brought their kids here.  Schools took field trips here.  Cases of explosives or ammunition wouldn’t simply be lying around, sadly. 

“We need a plan,” Victus said.

“Damn right we do,” Garrus said.  “This is not how I plan on dying.”

Victus snorted.  “You have a plan?”

He did once, Garrus realized with a start, thinking of that bridge on Omega, until Shepard had swept in and changed everything.  And now?  Even with the low chances that they would even survive the war, dying in a fortress without Shepard fighting by his side was not acceptable.  “Call me crazy, but I thought I might give old age a try.”

“Simple, I like it,” Victus responded.  “Now let’s figure out how to get out of here.” 

“Cortez, you still around?” Garrus asked.

_Yes, sir, hiding at the moment.  Three Harvesters circling the area.  Only one has troops left to deploy though._

“So a rooftop pickup is out of the question.”

_That would be correct, sir._

“What about the _Normandy_?” Victus asked.

 _The_ Normandy _would be spotted, and we’d have a Destroyer over here._

“It’s up to us, then,” Garrus said, trying to pull together a plan.  “Up for some recon work, Cortez?”

_Always.  What do you have in mind?_

“Find out where the Harvesters are picking up their troops, then come back and hide.”

_On it, sir.  Good luck._

While waiting for Cortez to report back to them, Garrus and Victus started going over possibilities.  What he would give for Shepard’s arsenal.  She was so good at blowing things up.  And that’s when Garrus thought of a plan. 

_Good news, sir.  Once the Harvesters leave, it’ll take them at least twenty minutes to get back to the fort._

Finally, a damn break.  “So we kill all the Reapers, make the Harvesters refuel, grab the banner and get the hell out of this fortress,” Garrus said.  “Ready, Victus?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Victus said, taking out his pistol and arming Incendiary Ammo.  “Your throwing aim better be good, Vakarian.”

Garrus shot the Primarch a level glare.  “Never,” he said as he started unlocking the double doors, “doubt my aim.”  

Once unlocked, they stood back from the doors, behind a large conference table they had overturned. Garrus threw one Proximity Mine just out of reach from where the Reapers were pounding on the door, ready to break through.  Then he threw another.  He gave Victus a brisk nod and brought out his assault rifle.

“Noted,” Victus said with a bark of a laugh.  He aimed at the mine on the left, looking ready for the upcoming fight.  

And they waited.

It took less time than Garrus would have thought, breaking down the doors.  But the Reapers did, and Husks poured through the door, all running towards the conference table.  The moment they stepped in range of the mine, Garrus shouted, “Now!”

Victus fired one shot, then changed weapons.  The explosion, a combination of the mine and the Incendiary Ammo, was much larger than a mine alone.  _Thank you, Shepard_ , Garrus thought.  One night, not too long ago, Shepard had said she wanted to try lighting up one of his mines with Incinerate, saying the blast radius would double and do significantly more damage.  And Garrus never doubted her when it came to blowing things up.  

Garrus and Victus popped out of cover at the same time, both holding their assault rifles.  Taking a quick look at the carnage in front of him, Garrus realized that they managed to kill more than half the Reapers troops trying to get into the fortress.  “Looks like we have the advantage, sir!” Garrus shouted over his the sound of his rifle. 

“Agreed,” Victus called back.  “Let’s take these sons of bitches out!” 

With every shot, Garrus didn’t think of Menae and Palaven.  He didn’t think of eight million dead on Palaven in the first two days, fifteen million dead by the end of the first week.  He especially didn’t think of his father and sister trying to survive in that mess and he most certainly didn’t think of his mother, who they buried six days before the Reapers invaded. 

But even while he wasn’t thinking all of that, the Husks kept coming through the door.

_Harvesters are on the move, sir.  Twenty minutes until they’re back._

“Copy that,” Garrus said, as a Husk ran up to him.  Spirits, he hated these things, the way they shuffled and moved faster than they had any right too.  Garrus let out a burst of ammo, hitting the Husk in the chest.  It fell to the ground, but another was right behind it, able to get close enough to Garrus that he could smell it, a combination of bodily waste and death, the worst smell in the galaxy. 

His talons gripped his gun tight with one hand as he punched the Husk in the face.  It staggered back enough to give Garrus room to shoot it in the head.  Another one dead. 

“Eighteen minutes, Victus,” Garrus warned as two more Husks ran up to him. 

“We got this,” Victus responded.  Garrus heard the slap of metal behind him as Victus switched to his shotgun.  “Only three left on my side.”

Garrus tried to do a quick count as he shot a Husk in the leg to slow it down.  “Six over here.  Looks like I’m the popular one today.” 

Two Husks jumped on top of Garrus, one bending his fringe back hard enough to make his vision blur.  The other pounded his armor, causing no damage.  Garrus kneed the one in front of him in the groin area, causing it to bend over in pain.  The other he grabbed by the ankle and slammed it to the ground.  Two firing bursts later, there were only four left to deal with. 

Four Husks currently in his space.  Garrus cursed, a quarian one Tali had taught him on the SR-1 and knelt in cover, reloading.  Victus arrived at his side, shotgun out.  He took one Husk down, then another.  But then as Garrus stood back up, a shot rang out and hit Victus, strong enough to pierce his shields. 

Garrus looked at the door, where an unaccounted Cannibal stood.  “Frag!” Garrus yelled as it threw the grenade towards them.  Garrus rolled out of the way, just missing the blast radius.  Steadying himself on his knee, Garrus took out the final two Husks with his Vindicator then switched to this Mantis.  As the Cannibal started devouring some of the Husks, Garrus lined up his shot, top left eye.  He put only the slightest pressure on the trigger and took the shot. 

The Cannibal fell to the ground.  Garrus took one more shot, just in case.  “How much time, Cortez?”

_Fourteen minutes._

Standing up, Garrus’ stomach twisted as he saw Victus on the floor, not moving.  “Oh no you don’t, Victus,” Garrus said through clenched teeth.  “I am not going to be known as the one who got the damn Primarch killed.” 

Victus held up a hand and Garrus took a deep breath, feeling the air rushing back into his lungs.  He helped the Primarch back on his feet and looked him over for damage, not willing to take any chances.  Then Garrus saw it.  A slight crack in one of Victus’ brow plates.  Garrus winced in sympathy.  Cracking a brow plate hurt a ridiculous amount and almost always resulted in a concussion.

“Focus on me, Victus,” Garrus said, noticing the way Victus’ eyes weren’t settling on any one thing.  Definitely a concussion. 

“Hit my head on the table when that frag went off,” Victus said.  He looked towards the back of the room.  “Banner okay?”

They walked over to the banner, which looked intact.  Garrus had to fight the urge to reach out and run a talon down the front.  Fifteen thousand years of history, represented in woven cloth.

_I’m bringing the shuttle in, sir.  Twelve minutes til the Harvesters are back._

“Think we have time for a picture?” Victus asked. 

Garrus snorted.  Man had a concussion and the banner still took precedence.  “On the shuttle.  I don’t want to risk having another fire fight.”

“Good call,” Victus said, his voice tired.  He started to reach for the banner then stop.  “It’s your mission, Vakarian.  You want the honors?”

“All yours, sir,” Garrus said, widening his mandibles in a smile.  Not able to help himself, Garrus opened up his omni-tool.  They had time for one picture. 

The flash went off the moment Victus took the banner down, holding it in both his hands, reverence in his face.  At the time, Garrus had no idea he just took an iconic pic of the war.  Victus later released a copy of the photo, and within days, it went viral across the galaxy, giving turians everywhere hope. 

If the Banner of the First Regiment could survive the Reapers, so could they. 

~~~~~

“I am not singing that song,” Victus said, his words slurred from drink.  “ _The Fighting Pyjacks_ is a drinking song, not a proper battle song.”

“But that’s my favorite,” Garrus said, taking another swallow of his brandy.  “I sang _Sweet Cipritine_ for you.” 

They were having a private celebration in the Starboard observation room.  The banner hung proudly on the big picture window.  Garrus and Victus both sat on a couch, facing the banner, watching the stars streak behind it. 

The doors opened and Garrus turned around.  “Shepard!” he called out.  Oh, she looked so pretty and all he wanted to do was rub his palms over her shaved head and spirits he was _drunk._   But he and Victus deserved the time off.  They saved the banner.  If that wasn’t worth a drink or five, he didn’t know what was.  “Drink with us.”

Shepard sat on the couch next to Garrus, not close enough to be considered unprofessional, but close enough so he could feel the warmth from her skin.  She leaned back, crossing her legs.  “Heard you two had an adventure,” she said with a grin. 

“We’ve got pics,” Victus said excitedly.  “Vakarian, we need to show her the pics.” He stood up unsteadily.  “Look.” 

Victus knelt next to Shepard and opened up his omni-tool.  He went through them all, giving Shepard commentary as they looked through them.  There was the fort.  Victus in front of the fort.  Garrus in front of the fort.  The banner.  Victus posing with the banner.  Garrus posing with the banner.  Both of them with the banner.  Cortez looking bewildered with the banner.  And finally the banner hanging on the window in the lounge. 

“Well I’m glad you guys got out safe,” Shepard said.  She took a breath and stood up.  “I’ve got to get back to the CIC.  EDI says there’s a fuel cache somewhere near here.  We need to find it.”  Shepard turned towards him, her back to Victus and let her fingers brush Garrus’ talons, just for a moment.  “I’m glad you both made it out of there safely.” 

Garrus turned to watch her leave, staring at the soft curves of her waist.  Spirits, how he loved that waist.  “Almost safe!” he called out just as the door closed.  “Victus has a concussion.”

“That’s cold, Vakarian,” Victus said, leaning back and closing his eyes.  “Revealing a man’s injuries?” 

“It’s Shepard,” Garrus said, holding a fist to his temple.  Perhaps he had enough to drink.  “I’d bet a hundred credits she already knew.”

“Fair enough,” Victus said.  He took a slow sip of his whiskey.  “Hell of a day.” 

“One of my top six,” Garrus agreed, looking up at the banner.  The type of day he’d want to tell his mom about, let her know he lived one of her bedtime stories.  Maybe he could tell his dad someday. 

He looked at Victus and decided to take a chance.  Garrus told Shepard once that she was his only friend in the galaxy.  The time had come, perhaps, to change that.  “What’s your best day?”  The question was one he would never ask the Primarch of Palaven, but he could ask Adrien Victus, his friend.

Victus didn’t hesitate.  “The day Tarquin was born.  Yours?” 

Garrus closed his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to think.  Every moment that came to mind was colored by Shepard: defeating Saren, the night before the Omega-4 relay, reuniting on Menae.  He tried to think of his life without her and came up empty.  “Day I met Shepard,” he said, wincing at the sound of devotion bleeding into his sub-vocals.

“You care for her a great deal, don’t you?” Victus asked.

Garrus smiled and took a sip of brandy, knowing just like that, Victus accepted his offer of friendship.  You don’t ask someone who was just an aide a question like that.  But you could ask a friend.  Instead of speaking aloud, worried that his sub-vocals might get him into more trouble, Garrus simply nodded. 

They sat in silence, looking at the banner.  Victus cracked his neck.  “I’ll sing the damn pyjack song if you want,” he said after a bit. 

“Nah, moment’s gone,” Garrus said with a laugh.  Turning towards Victus, he held out his glass in a toast.  “How ‘bout ’Die for the Cause?’”

Victus clinked Garrus’ glass with his own.  “’Die for the Cause.’” 

Garrus truly hoped it would never come to that, be he knew if it did, they’d be ready.  The banner proved that.  And so they sang.


End file.
